In Your Hands
by Ivy Adrena
Summary: On Hiatus for Editing: KisaSaku Good and evil, black and white. Amidst a brewing war, Sakura comes to realize that they're just names for sides… and there's always more than meets the eye. Kisame x Sakura
1. Kidnapped

**Edit: **ff.n is in the bad habit of mashing together words indiscriminatly and eating my formating. If you spot any please let me know so I can try and smack some sense into it. I've already spotted some errors of my own, but ff.n is taking forever to admit that I fixed them. Please bear with me.

**A/N**: I would just like to start out by giving my betas/sounding-boards a huge thank you:  
Fallacy/Korina Caffeine, Chaos Dragon, hellssamaritan, Quantum Reality, and Landlady of the Universe. I couldn't have done it without you, guys.

…okay, maybe I _could _have, but I'm sure it would have sucked horribly and never seen the light of day. Ya'll are the best. :D

**Title**: Found  
**Author**: IvyAdrena  
**Notes: **Slight AU, TWT (Timeline, what timeline?)  
**Summary**: (KisaSaku) Good and evil, black and white. Amidst a brewing war, Sakura comes to realize that they're just names for sides… and there's always more than meets the eye.

* * *

Sakura was officially annoyed, and, privately, more than a little worried. 

Her abductor hadn't said a word the whole time they'd been traveling, which meant she had no idea of his identity other than what she could glean while blindfolded.

He was a tall man, and one with an indecently hard shoulder, if he was going to go transporting her around like a sack of rice. She found the angle slightly odd though; instead of being braced on her stomach with her legs draped down his front for balance, it was the lower half of her ribcage just below her breasts that was subjected to the hard muscle and bone. They were moving through trees at a high velocity, and every landing had knocked the breath from her until he'd gained a better grip and modified his pace somewhat.

A tiny inner voice compared it to riding a horse: he'd started out in a jerky trot, but had shifted to a smooth, easy canter once he'd gained the desired speed.

Sakura giggled madly--if silently--at the thought, then mentally shook her head and continued analyzing the situation.

The angle had to mean that he was transporting something on his back that he didn't want her to touch. A large scroll, or weapon of some kind? There was a wide leather strap across his chest, but not the right kind for a supply pack. So it had to be a weapon.

What else?

She could hear the distinct sound of fabric flapping in the wind, but that didn't help her much since many shinobi wore cloaks of some kind.

He wanted her alive and healthy, that much was certain. He'd knocked her out and restrained her, but hadn't directly injured her.

Even if she hadn't been blindfolded and trussed up like a turkey, the odd jutsu he'd caught her in guaranteed that she couldn't move a muscle, much less escape. She was only slightly peeved that he hadn't underestimated her like most people-- it actually stroked her ego a bit that he thought this much caution was necessary.

But the thing that really pissed her off was the fact that he'd used a medical jutsu on her and _she couldn't break it._

The jutsu itself sent the victim's body into hibernation, and was normally used short-term while transporting high-risk patients. It slowed down their heart and respiration to reduce blood loss or the spread of unknown poisons, as well as leveling off their chakra until they were removed from a battlefield or put under the care of a full medic-nin. Thus sustained, she was unable to mold enough chakra to escape.

The jutsu was used to save lives, and this person had used a longer-lasting variation to keep her docile while he abducted her.

When she could move again, she was _so _going to kick his ass, because damnit, _this wasn't supposed to happen!_ She wasn't a weak little girl anymore!

Seething, Sakura almost missed the subtle veil of chakra that washed over them, because a niggling voice suddenly started screaming at her to run, to escape, to _getawaybeforethemonsterateher!_

But then they passed through it and the feeling was abruptly gone, leaving her momentarily breathless.

The bastard hadn't reacted at all, which meant he'd been expecting it. Most likely a genjutsu to deter wandering shinobi. An extremely _strong _genjutsu. One that most of the special jounins she knew couldn't put up, much less anchor like this one seemed to be.

With a sinking feeling, Sakura finally accepted that she was in _way _over her head.

Her abductor's pace suddenly slowed to a walk, and from the way his footsteps echoed, they had to be in a tunnel of some sort. The air was cold, and held an earthy scent of soil and darkness.

Sunlight abruptly filtered through her blindfold, and instead of the sharp sound of sandals on stone, it was the rustle of grass. Outside again? Where the hell was he taking her?

From the quiet murmurs they were heading toward, they were no longer alone.

Her captor stopped walking and grunted a greeting to the others.

_'What do you know, it _can _talk! Kind of.'_

The arm across her thighs suddenly loosened, and her limp body was placed on what she could only assume was a large boulder.

The hibernation jutsu keeping her docile was suddenly removed, and it was all she could do to not react visibly. With the average patient, it took a few minutes for their body to come out of it, but because Sakura was a medic-nin, she recovered almost instantly.

Careful to not attract attention, she sent out an extremely fine chakra net, greedily taking stock of the information supplied to her:

One. One man other than her abductor stood next to the boulder at her side. Both blazed brightly with restrained chakra. Powerful, very much so...

_"But power does not equate immortality,"_ she reminded herself. The incident with Gaara attested to that.

Two. They were in a clearing that was abundant with trees and other plant life. Relatively close to the terrain she was used to, which would work in her favor when she came up with an escape plan.

Three. The area itself was in a large valley that was ringed with steep cliffs on all sides, which explained the need for the tunnel. It also cut down on escape routes. Joy.

Sarcasm, thy name is Sakura.

"Oi, you were supposed to pick up that kunoichi, not a geisha." The voice came closer, and it its owner tilted her face up; she continued to play dead, breathing deep and even. "She's cute though, un."

"This _is _the kunoichi. She was on a mission."

"Yeah, right. She looks like a civilian, un. Sure you didn't screw up?" He sounded skeptical. Good, maybe she could still get out of this without too much trouble.

"She was carrying enough weaponry to supply a small village."

Or not. Maybe they'd been looking for someone else?

A low whistle. "What kind of ninja has pink hair, un?" She could tell from his tone of voice that the man was wrinkling his nose.

"Hell if I know. The kind named _'Haruno Sakura'_?"

...Shit. So much for this all being a misunderstanding.

The man laughed derisively, "You can't be serious, un. That, or her parents hated her."

Her abductor started to say something, but a large hand that definitely didn't belong to Sakura suddenly tugged at the collar of her kimono, and she felt very justifiably distracted.

'_Okay, screw a planned escape. The element of surprise works for me.' _

The ropes binding her arms and legs gave with a satisfying snap as she broke free. The thin folding paper fan tucked into her obi found its way into her hand, and a flare of focused chakra later she was slashing a sharp, glowing tessen through the air where the offender had been standing. Her hair ornaments easily became impromptu senbon-- all of her real weapons had been confiscated early on.

Her still-active chakra net picked up the duo's movements easily as they split up. For whatever reason, they'd wanted her alive and healthy; hopefully, that still held true.

Flipping to her feet, Sakura shot forward and attacked the nearest chakra signature-- the guy that had called her cute. She heard him curse as he dodged a swipe, then again as she landed him with a foot sweep and darted away before he could grab her. Her abductor laughed mockingly.

_'Bad move, mister.' _

Re-orienting on their voices, she quickly estimated heights, then twisted in mid-air and kicked off her sandals. They shot in opposite directions towards where they were trying to cage her in. The men both dodged more easily than she liked, but Sakura still wished she could've seen their faces when the weighted geta each smashed through a tree.

While they were distracted, she shaped a subtle genjutsu around them and took off quietly into the trees. Her chakra net lit up each branch neatly, so Sakura didn't waste time with pulling off her blindfold; she was more worried about trying to escape, and quite honestly refused to release the few weapons she had in hand to do so.

Of course, had she removed the cloth, she might've seen the odd vines creeping towards her when she paused a moment on a wide branch to re-orient herself; they certainly didn't register as a threat until they were already latching on, coiling around her body in an unbreakable grip.

Muscles straining desperately against the hold, Sakura tried to wrench an arm free, _something_, but the vines only tightened in response. Writhing and cussing under her breath, she almost missed the quiet thumps of the two shinobi in the trees around her.

A shifting of something undefined, then the sharp prick of a blade at her throat.

Sakura stilled. Genjutsu?

No, this was all too real; the sudden steady chakra signature that had appeared behind her proved that. It also didn't match either of the original two, so she couldn't even write it off as a kage bunshin.

Distracted with the newcomer, she almost didn't notice movement from the others, but a low hiss escaped her when she was summarily disarmed and patted down by now-familiar hands.

Sakura suppressed a shudder when fingers dipped into her kimono, but thankfully they didn't stray far. A jangle of metal clanking together, and her dog tags were pulled out from where they'd hung on a chain around her neck.

"Haruno Sakura, ID #012601, Blood Type: O, Medic-nin and Special Jounin. Konohagakure." Her credentials were listed off with a sort of wry irony. "I _do _know how to read a bingo book, Deidara."

Wait, _who?_ ...Oh. Oh, shit. Sakura felt her heart take a sickening plunge while her stomach twisted itself into knots.

Things abruptly fell into place, little details that made her feel like an idiot now that the bigger picture was revealed.

When her blindfold was pulled down, Sakura was not at all surprised to find herself staring up into the sharp, shark-like features of one Hoshigaki Kisame.

OoOoOoO

"Damn, no wonder you were so heavy. I thought you were just fat."

Kisame eyed one of the felled trees when they passed through the clearing, and was glad he'd dodged instead of trying to catch the geta; it had smashed through the tree where his head would have been. Even blind, the kunoichi had good aim.

Said kunoichi struggled reflexively at the slight, growling obscenities as the small group moved inside.

Such a contradiction. The makeup and flowing silk kimonos made her look like something delicate to the casual observer, and even he had watched her longer than strictly necessary, just to make sure he had the right person. It wouldn't do to kidnap a real, civilian geisha. While pretty, they broke far too easily and didn't possess nearly as many connections as this woman did.

No, he'd had to be sure. So he'd followed her, observed her. It wasn't until he'd seen her perform a fan dance that he'd known for certain. She had a taijutsu-master's grace, a shinobi's swift accuracy, even as she telegraphed her movements for the audience. Every flutter of her fan or shifted stance held meaning to further her story.

It was the first time Kisame had sat through a professional geisha's performance in its entirety, but he could definitely see the attraction it held now.

After stepping into a secure room and depositing the kunoichi in a chair-- the vines shifted accordingly, wrapping around the sturdy wood as well as Sakura herself-- Kisame dumped out a travel pack on the room's only table. Various types of weaponry spilled out across the surface, as well as a bag of stage-makeup and a few scrolls; it was everything he'd confiscated from the kunoichi at the start of this little adventure. Casting Sakura an amused look, he added the folding fan and hair ornaments to the pile, only to receive a glower in response.

Skipping over the assorted armaments, Kisame performed a few exploratory jutsus on the scrolls to see if any were booby-trapped, only to discover that two contained information on medical theory, one was half-filled with scratchy notes, a fourth contained an obscene amount of clothing and girly things that didn't bear thinking about, and the last scroll was really no more than two slips of parchment rolled together. None were warded.

Curious, he opened the parchment and, after skimming the sheets, smirked and read the letter out loud for the benefit of the others.

_"'Sakura,_

_I've arranged for you to fill-in for Tanaka Katsuki for the next three nights. When you have completed the attached list of performances, take the rest of the month off. I took the liberty of having Shizune pack for you-- everything you should need is in the accompanying transport scroll._

_Find a beach with pina coladas and cabana boys or go on a tour of ancient monasteries, I don't care; if I see you in Konoha before your time is up, I'll have you playing nurse to the Academy brats for the rest of the term! _

_- Tsunade'"_

She had only just reached her dressing room after the last performance listed when she'd been knocked out and abducted... which meant no one would worry about her disappearance for another four and a half weeks. Sakura made a mental note to kill her shishou at the first opportunity, if she made it out of this alive.

At the assorted predatory and speculative looks she was given, Sakura set her jaw and mentally prepared herself for the worst.

'_Vacation' my ass.'_

* * *

-tbc- 


	2. Interrogation

**Author's Notes**: T**he rating has officially gone up to M.**

Once again, a huge, huge thank you to Fallacy/Korina Caffeine and Chaos Dragon.  
Here's hoping my other betas don't kill me for being impatient and posting this with only Korina's fixes! crosses fingers

**In Your Hands  
**Chapter 2

OoOoOoO

Sakura wasn't really sure what she had expected them to do with her. Some light torture with a side of interrogation as to Naruto's location, perhaps, or inquiries about Konoha's weaknesses and defenses. Something decidedly _not good,_ that was for certain

So when her bound form was dropped onto a large futon in a dark room and three dangerous men loomed over her with a disturbingly focused intent, she wasn't exactly surprised.

Worried, maybe, that whatever they were after was important enough to skip asking nicely and jump straight into the focused abuse.

Anger was there, because they thought it would actually work on her.

Fear was predominant, though. Fear that they might be right.

All kunoichi received training on how to deal with the mental and physical trauma that they could be subjected to if captured by enemy nin. They'd had guest lecturers of ninja and civilian victims alike. Many carried scars as medals of what they survived. But just as many were empty little shells, a faded memory of what used to be.

What if she wasn't strong enough? What if she broke? Training had stopped short of practical experience; they'd only been ten at the time.

Sakura's hands clenched, carefully manicured nails drawing blood.

Screw that. Haruno Sakura was not a weak little girl that cried at the slightest conflict anymore. She'd studied under and all but surpassed the legendary Tsunade, _the Godaime Hokage_ _herself!_ She could damned well take whatever these bastards could dish out, even if she was terrified.

Fear was a normal reaction to this kind of situation, she reminded herself. She just refused to let it control her. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

Zetsu flicked his fingers, and the vines came to life. Sakura's arms were separated from her sides, dragged above her head and held there securely. The rest of the restricting plant shivered then slid and coiled, serpent-like, around her wrists, legs, neck.

Kisame propped one knee on the edge of the mattress and leaned over her. Sakura forced herself to focus on small things, like the odd swirly mineral pattern in the stone ceiling above her.

Or how the vines smelled, oddly enough, like fresh licorice.

Or how the room was silent except for her unsteady breathing.

Or how the missing-nin above her was surprisingly deft at unraveling intricately-knotted obi's.

"Shouldn't we wait for Itachi, un?"

Sakura closed her eyes and ground her teeth behind the gag.

"No. He thinks it's a waste of time."

One less to deal with, at least...

Silk pooled at her sides as the layered kimono was tugged open. She heard Deidara give an amused huff, and was suddenly thankful that she'd decided to wear her usual outfit beneath the formal clothing.

And then her shirt was being unzipped and skirt tugged down low on her hips and _she was gagged and they weren't asking her anything--_

Kisame straddled her hips and splayed a large hand on her bare stomach, palm centered over her belly button.

Deidara and Zetsu moved suddenly, hands sliding between her breasts and... through her hair?

Sakura growled and bucked, but stilled when a line of thorns appeared against her neck; they retracted when she forced herself to relax. Fighting the urge to boot someone in the face anyway and to hell with the consequences, she instead watched closely as they formed a somewhat familiar series of one-handed seals.

What were...?

A whisper of foreign chakra rippled through her at each contact point.

Oh, no. No, no, no... now she recognized their positioning, the seals-- distantly, she was relieved that Zetsu had chosen crown instead of forehead; she wasn't quite sure how the small chakra focus point beneath the white stage make-up would have reacted to this particular jutsu.

Just to be sure, Sakura focused, then flared chakra in her feet as if she was about to kick through something very, very solid. A chunk of the foreign chakra immediately swarmed around the extra energy; the trio tracked the movement with their eyes.

Escape may have just become exponentially more difficult, but if this was the most... _invasive_ they were going to get, she'd take it. This, at least, was something she could find a way around.

"Smart little kunoichi," Kisame chuckled, then flexed his fingers against her stomach when she released the gathered chakra to circulate through her system. She ignored him as best she could.

"Then you know what this does. Try any ninjutsu or genjutsu, and we will know," Zetsu said calmly. When he continued, it was in a completely different, darker voice. "You would never make it out in one piece."

"Be a good girl, and we won't have to get rough, un." Deidara paused, then shifted his hand to trace the edge of the fabric covering her breasts. "Also, that is _the_ most garish bra I've ever seen. Are you colorblind or something?"

Sakura flushed faintly and shifted a bit to hide a reflexive flinch away from the touch. The orange and purple striped monstrosity had been a very bad gag-gift from Naruto, and while it _was_ ugly as sin, it was actually the most comfortable bra she owned.

Apparently the blond wanted an answer, because he removed her gag and raised his visible eyebrow expectantly. The vines looped around her neck suddenly retreated at a light touch from Zetsu.

Eyeing them warily, Sakura shook her head. Why the hell did he care about her choice of undergarments?

Deidara's nose wrinkled. "Jeeze, you just have bad taste, un?"

_This_ was the big interrogation? Talk about surreal.

Her eye twitched. "It was a gift, so I really don't care what color it is," she ground out.

"Oh? From who, your boyfriend?"

She wrinkled her nose and replied before she could stop herself. "He's just a friend with a weird sense of humor."

"Hmm... do the panties match?" Kisame's fingers dipped beneath her waistband, disturbingly low.

Seeking to distract him, Sakura hunched down as much as the restricting vines would let her, and squeaked out, _"Why?"_

"Inquiring minds want to know."

"Inquiring minds had better mind their _own _business before they_ lose inquiring hands!"_

Kisame smirked and shifted said appendages to span her waist, though his thumbs smoothed along the dip of her hip bones in an almost-ticklish circuit. Figuring that was the best she'd get out of him right now, Sakura transferred her glare to Deidara. "That goes for you, too!"

Something mischievous flashed across his face, and then the hand playing with the edge of her bra was instead covering her breast. Something wet and warm that felt distinctly like a tongue curled unerringly around her nipple through the fabric.

Sakura shrieked and bucked, managing to sit up just far enough to head butt the blond, who released her and staggered back clutching at his jaw.

Kisame laughed, though his eyes were fixed firmly on the wet material and what lay beneath. "That's enough, Deidara."

Finding herself closer to the former Mist-nin than she liked, Sakura scowled and brought her bound arms down over her chest, scooting backwards. She bumped into Zetsu, but considering he'd given her enough freedom to hit Deidara and hadn't groped her yet, he was starting to look like the lesser of three evils. When Kisame leaned forward, she planted her feet flat on his chest to hold him back.

Braced between two Akatsuki members with a third rubbing at a blooming bruise on his jaw, she narrowed her eyes and glared between the two she could readily see.

"What the hell do you want from me?"

Kisame's leer was full of sharp teeth and leashed intent, his fingers warm where they curled around her bare ankles. "Well, for starters--"

Only his firm grip kept her from kicking him in the face or somewhere significantly more damaging.

Deidara snickered.

Hands suddenly landed on her shoulders, making Sakura jump; she'd almost forgotten Zetsu was in the room, even when leaning against him. Scary.

She tilted her head back to peer at him warily.

"Patience, Haruno-san."

The scent of licorice was suddenly drowned out by rosemary and poppies. A second later, Sakura felt a small pinprick at her neck and she was overcome by a veritable tsunami of exhaustion. Before she could even think of fighting it, she was asleep.

She never felt the hands carefully repositioning her limp body on the futon, nor the vines once again securing her arms to the sturdy frame at the head of the bed.

The door locked soundlessly as they left.

OoOoOoO

Someone was humming.

It was the first thing Sakura's mind registered as she swam up from the depths of a surprisingly peaceful sleep.

The second was the feeling of someone tugging on her shirt. She peeked discreetly through her lashes, and saw a masked man with wild hair carefully fitting one side of the zip into the slider.

For some reason, she got the impression that if she pulled off the mask he would have his tongue stuck between his teeth in careful concentration far overdone for such a simple task.

"What are you doing?"

The man glanced up at her. "You'll catch cold without your shirt on properly, Sakura-san," he said in a scolding tone. As if her state of undress was actually _her_ fault.

He finally lined up the zipper correctly and drew the slide up to the top of the track at the hollow of her throat, very carefully not touching anything in between.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome!" he said cheerfully. "Are you hungry?"

As if it on cue, her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. Sakura blushed faintly and nodded.

He helped her sit up and piled pillows behind her back. "I'm not allowed to untie you, so I'll have to feed you."

Leaning down, he grabbed a tray that had been sitting out of her line of sight and perched next to her with it. Without missing a beat, he performed the standard poison-detection jutsu on the food for her, which revealed that it was clean.

"Sorry if it's a little burned," he said sheepishly, "I'm not a very good cook."

Shaking out a cloth napkin, he draped in across her chest then picked up a bowl of tempura. Far easier than someone wearing gloves should be able to, he snatched up a slightly singed bite of zucchini with the chopsticks and held it up to her mouth. Warily, Sakura accepted it; it was a little bland, but not horrible. Having tasted what Naruto tried to pass off as cooking, she could definitely say she'd had worse.

"Not bad."

The man beamed. "Thank you!"

His cheerfulness was contagious, and Sakura soon found herself smiling a tiny bit. After a few more bites, she managed to find out that his name was Tobi, his favorite color was orange (big surprise there) but he disliked _oranges_, he all but idolized Zetsu and 'Deidara-senpai,' thought Itachi was 'scary and mean,' and that Kisame was a fun sparring partner when he had the time.

He also refused to tell her why she was there or to untie her, even when she said she needed to use the bathroom.

"I'll have to get Zetsu-san for you, Sakura-san."

He left before she could stop him.

Ten minutes later Zetsu appeared, though Tobi was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Kisame propped a lean hip against the doorframe and watched them intently.

She didn't move when Zetsu approached nor when he bent over her, and was rewarded with a speculative glance as he coaxed the vines from her limbs. She watched with curious interest as they coiled around his arms, then seemed to shrink down into a tightly curled frond in the palm of his hand. He placed it on a small shelf at the head of the bed in a very deliberate movement.

Sakura glanced away and sat up. Kisame appeared next to her and reached across her lap to pick up the length of fabric that had been her obi. She stared at him for a moment when he folded the silk into halves, then quarters.

"Come."

"Where?"

Kisame rolled his eyes. "To your horrible, messy, painful death. Where else?"

If he'd lain the sarcasm on any more thick she could have swam through it.

"Oh, alright then," she retorted, pushing herself to her feet, "Lead the way."

The way, apparently, was down a barren hall, first door on the left.

They entered a small alcove inside, and then Kisame pushed open another door to reveal a large Western-style bathroom. The tub was already filled with gently steaming water, and Sakura could almost _hear _her sore muscles screaming at her to dive right in.

Kisame suddenly shoved a scroll in her face. She glared at him and grabbed it, recognizing it as the transport scroll that held her clothing and toiletries.

"You have five minutes to get in the tub, and then I'm coming in."

It was more than she'd expected, though she was frankly thankful for even that much time alone. That thought in mind, she had already draped her loose kimono on a provided hanger and was reaching up to undo her hair when her wrist was caught in an unbreakable grip.

"What _now?"_

"The hair pins go with me."

Sakura stared at him for a moment, then growled. "Fine."

Pulling away, she removed the clips securing her hair, then dropped them, intricate bun and all, into his extended hand.

She smirked at his expression and ran her fingers through her usual shoulder-length locks. "Long hair is impractical on kunoichi."

Turning back to the transport scroll she'd set on a small table, Sakura opened it and began skimming through the contents and pulling out toiletries as well as a change of clothing. "Five minutes?"

"Yes," Zetsu confirmed, startling her again. That man blended into the background _far_ too well.

The two missing-nin stepped back into the front alcove and closed the door.

Wasting no time, Sakura made use of the facilities and undressed, sinking into the steaming bath. She was rubbing a soapy washcloth across her cheek when the door opened again and the former Mist-nin stepped inside.

"Behave, Kisame."

"Yes, yes. I will."

Zetsu left, and then Sakura was wet, naked, and alone in a room with one leering S-class missing nin.

Drawing up her knees, she finished scrubbing the thick stage make-up off her face and neck then rinsed off the washcloth and dunked her head. When she surfaced and wiped the water from her eyes, she discovered that Kisame had moved significantly closer. Specifically, he was crouched right next to the tub at her side, staring at her with those strange, pale eyes.

Reflexively, she jerked back and threw the closest thing to hand at him.

The washcloth impacted wetly against his chest. It stuck there for a moment before slowly sliding down to plop in a soggy pile on the floor.

He didn't move, just continued staring intently at her... shoulder? Sakura's hand automatically went up to cover the lightly bruised bite mark there, but Kisame caught her wrist.

"What-- did you just _sniff_ me?" she asked incredulously. The man had leaned forward and shoved his face against her skin, inhaling deeply. Sakura braced her free hand against his chest and started to push him away, but froze when a low growl resonated through him.

"Who did this?" His lips feathered against her skin when he spoke, making her shiver.

"None of your business!"

He growled again, sharp teeth dangerously close.

"Fine! I was treating an injured friend. He was delirious and thought I was attacking him, so he bit me. What's the big deal?"

"You didn't heal it?"

"I didn't feel like wasting chakra on something that will heal on its own. It's not even deep enough to scar."

"Hmm. Smells like dog."

Sakura blinked. It had, in fact, been Kiba. But... "It happened a week ago!"

The scent of wet fur and pack lay over her skin like a cloying blanket, something Kisame's darker half found extremely offensive. The voice that normally spoke of blood and battle as glorious things was suddenly urging him to drown it out with his own, to bite, claim, fuck. The girl could fight, would give him an exhilarating challenge, maybe even a few new scars to remember her by.

Gritting his teeth, he ignored it and instead picked up the now-cold washcloth from the floor. Dipping it into the warm water, he scrubbed at the mark until her skin was red and he could no longer smell anything but the girl and herbal soap.

"The scent lingers when skin is broken."

"...Ah. Right." Deciding not to pursue that line of questioning, Sakura shook her head. "Can I have my hand back now?" She glanced down at her captured wrist for emphasis. "I _am_ actually capable of bathing myself."

When he finally released her, she scooted to the other end of the large tub and grabbed the shampoo bottle. She cast a glance at him over her shoulder. "Can you not sit so close? It's not like I could drown myself before you got across the room or something."

"Mmm. Don't get any ideas, little kunoichi," he said, then fluidly slid to his feet and strode over to lean against the nearest adjacent wall.

He watched the play of the muscles beneath her smooth skin as Sakura turned her back to him and lathered up her hair, then ducked under to rinse. When she surfaced, water painting trails down her body, Kisame found his pants significantly tighter than when he'd first come in to keep an eye on her and silently cursed himself for removing his loose cloak earlier.

Idly, he wondered how she would react when she realized just how she affected him, if she didn't know already. He hadn't exactly been discreet, though he wasn't as obvious as _some_ shinobi he could name.

Remembering her reaction to Deidara's joke of a come-on, Kisame made a mental note to keep an eye on the blond in case he decided to get back at her.

The strangest things could set Deidara off, but people showing disgust or fear of his bloodline limit was at the top of the list. Said people tended to end up being scattered across the countryside in bloody little bits.

Hearing a splash, Kisame looked up in time to see Sakura wrapping a towel around herself as she stepped out of the bath. It was large, fluffy, blue, and normally his _favorite,_ but right now it was blocking a very nice view and all he wanted to do was rip it to shreds. Damned towel.

The girl pulled the plug on the tub then walked past him to her pile of clean clothing. Kisame sniffed her hair in an exaggerated gesture designed to annoy her. From the look she shot him, it worked.

Purely to annoy _him_, she tugged on her panties and bra under the towel before dropping it to finish dressing. And then took her time brushing her hair. And putting away her things.

Just as he was starting to move from annoyed into aggressive, Sakura turned back to him. It really was too bad she'd left that towel on the floor and forgotten about it, though, because it immediately tangled around her feet when she got near it.

In the next moment, Kisame had an armful of soft, clean-smelling kunoichi pressed firmly against him, her warm breath puffing against his chest through his thin shirt. It was then that he decided he should start wearing fishnet clothing more often; if Deidara cracked any jokes, he'd just take the little blighter's head off.

Sakura squirmed, and it finally registered that he'd reflexively grabbed her hips and was holding her a good foot off the ground. Her fingernails dug into his skin, breath catching nervously.

When she tried to push away, Kisame lifted her a few inches higher and dropped his head to nose against her shoulder. Satisfied that the dog-scent was no longer on her, he murmured, "Much better," in her ear.

He finally set her back on her feet, but couldn't resist dragging her against him on the way down.

She darted out of reach the second he let go, her face bright red and fists clenched. He was ready to catch a punch, but oddly enough she didn't attack him. Strange girl, Sakura. She almost broke Deidara's jaw for copping a feel, but she didn't retaliate against Kisame?

Maybe she was afraid of him? It certainly wouldn't be the first _or _last time someone was put off by his... _unique _physical characteristics or bloodthirsty reputation, well-earned as it was.

But no, it was more than that... she hadn't even twitched at Zetsu's appearance, which was arguably more disturbing than his own. Eyes narrowing thoughtfully, Kisame watched her gather her things.

"Come."

She studiously avoided looking at him as they stepped back into the hall. "You really like saying that, don't you?"

"Something like that," he agreed with a touch of humor. If he hadn't been watching for it, he would have missed the tiny release of tension from her shoulders. Hmm...

It only took a minute to reach her new room. Sakura stepped inside, but Kisame stopped just outside, propping his arm on the top of the doorframe.

"Your other scrolls are on the desk, and there are some books on the shelves. Someone will be checking on you periodically, so try to stay out of trouble."

"Anything else, oh lord and master?" She scowled, glaring.

Catching a tiny movement and a flicker of yellow down the hall, he paused and considered her for a moment. Might as well get it over with when he was there to step in. The girl hadn't seemed to notice anything yet.

Kisame leaned forward slightly and injected a serious note to his voice, though he kept it at the same volume. "Yes. A bit of advice... don't bring up Deidara's bloodline limit around him."

Sakura blinked. "His hands, you mean?"

"Mm. You would do well to not mock him about it. He doesn't react well, and dislikes cleaning up the resulting mess."

She gave him an odd look, then shook her head. "I don't really mind that, so much as the fact that a strange man _groped _me when I was tied up. How the hell was I _supposed_ to react to that?"

Not expecting such a candid response, Kisame stared at her for a moment. "How indeed." Huffing out a soft chuckle, he shooed her further inside and closed the door behind her.

He felt Deidara approach as he set the locks and wards, and glanced at the other man. "She's an odd one, isn't she?"

The blond didn't reply, though something angry gradually disappeared from his visible eye.

Amused at how quickly the girl had -- however unknowingly -- defused a potentially explosive situation, Kisame turned and walked away. He only relaxed when he felt Deidara do the same.

* * *

-tbc- 

If you don't review, I don't know if you like it or not... and considering the pairing, that makes me very nervous. Even if it's just a "moar, plskthx", I would appreciate a little input. _Please_.

Also, I respond to reviews! So if you're curious about something, or wonder what's taking me so long to post (hopefully _that_ won't happen often), I **will** reply. Rather quickly, too, as I'm online far too often. sheepish grin


	3. Squigglebutt

In Your Hands  
Chapter 3

A/N: Oh, wow. Now I feel spoiled with all the reviews! Thank you so much for your encouragement and general squee'ing over my fic; ya'll have no idea how much I appreciate it.

On another note, I officially loathe writing in the previous past tense. And I'm usually better at introspection than this. wtf, brain?

OoOoOoO

The moment the door closed, Sakura started a pacing circuit around what amounted to a fancy prison cell. She knew it was fruitless to search for makeshift weapons or escape routes, but she needed something to occupy her body with while her mind ran in furious circles.

Even with Zetsu's parting warning in the bathroom, she had still half-expected Kisame to jump her the second they were alone. While he had been almost unfailingly polite in their encounters, the man had set off far too many of her internal alarms-- mainly the one that screamed in her head about how a predator was closing in quickly, and _why wasn't she _running _yet?_

Maybe it was morbid curiosity that kept her there, or it could have just been over-confidence; she knew there was no way in hell she could fight all of them at once and win-- but one at a time? While it was true that she hadn't been able to take out Sasori without teaming up with Chiyo-baasama, that had been years ago. She was stronger and more experienced now, with a better chance of winning. So she was sure that Kisame had moved close to the bathtub in a bid to intimidate her, at first.

What she couldn't figure out was why a stupid little bite mark had set him off the way it did.

The almost obsessive need to remove Kiba's scent didn't make any _sense_. It wasn't like the mark had been intentional, nor did it mean anything. It sure as hell wouldn't affect her performance as a medic, nor as a kunoichi in general. Kisame hadn't even noticed the damned thing until he was practically on top of her, so it wasn't something that would attract unwanted attention in the field unless she was prancing around topless, which she would never do in the first place.

Once the scent was gone, he had seemed to regain control of himself, for which Sakura was very grateful. Hoshigaki Kisame unrestrained by social niceties was something that made her extremely nervous...made her feel like prey. And from the way he had distanced himself and intentionally tried to annoy her afterwards, he knew it.

The distraction hadn't worked, but was nonetheless grudgingly appreciated, if it meant he'd stop being so grabby. The mood had shifted, becoming... not really friendly or comfortable, but it was a sight less nerve-wracking than before.

And then that stupid towel had gone and ruined everything.

It wasn't like she'd needed him to catch her. She had regained her balance easily like any good kunoichi, but before she knew what was happening, strong hands had lifted her against another warm body, and...

Sakura made a noise of pure frustration and tugged at her hair. "What the hell is _wrong _with me? Why did I freeze like that?"

Kisame was probably wondering the same thing right now, considering the way he had tensed in expectation of violence. In fact, it was almost like he had been... anticipating it?

Did he _want_ her to fight back? He'd looked a bit disappointed when she'd failed to lash out.

Sakura stilled, mind whirling as she came to the inevitable conclusion.

He had been intentionally provoking her, _trying _to get her riled up. That had to be it, because up until that point, he had been fairly respectful, barring verbal innuendo, of course. And even when he'd pulled off her clothes to apply the monitoring jutsu, his hands hadn't wandered like Deidara's. When he'd let his fingers stray beneath her skirt, in reality they hadn't gone very far; her panicked mind had merely told her otherwise at the time.

Now that she thought about it, she realized he had been _mocking _her fear, not trying to _enhance _it. Deidara too, even if the blond had chosen a rather unorthodox-- okay, _moronic-- _manner in which to do it.

It was then that she accepted that, the usual cloak-and-dagger routine aside, Akatsuki hadn't done anything specifically designed to scare or hurt her, which was really kind of disturbing all on its own... but there were too many variables amongst the group as a whole. Best to deal with one problem at a time.

She just wished she could figure out what it was about Kisame that unnerved her so badly.

_'Maybe it's because he looks like the demented lovechild of Jaws and Fabio, and former just happened to have most of the dominant genes?'_ an inner voice guessed.

Sakura rolled her eyes. Charming mental image, but that wasn't it. She'd gone up against a fair number of odd-looking opponents, and as a kunoichi, she knew that looks could be deceiving. Incidentally, it also hadn't taken her long to realize that the 'perfect' pretty boys were usually _the _most mentally unstable, hardcore fuck-ups for miles.

Kisame didn't really seem the type to get off on her fear, at any rate. From what she'd been able to glean from Team Gai's past reports when she had been doing research on Akatsuki, Kisame found excitement in battle. If provoked, he would play with his opponents, but only if they presented a proper challenge for him. Or just pissed him off, which Maito Gai apparently excelled at.

Was that how he saw her? As a different sort of challenge?

Or maybe he was just messing with her head until she was such a nervous wreck that she couldn't fight back. There were simply too many things to consider.

Sakura really hated these kinds of situations.

Reaching the desk Kisame had mentioned, Sakura gave a rather un-ladylike snort. While it vaguely resembled a table, it was more like a rock formation that someone might have shaped with a doton jutsu. It held no drawers, merely a flat, braced surface at waist-height. A two-tiered bookshelf was also set into the wall above it. Browsing through the books there, she realized that she recognized almost all of the titles from her own library at home, except for three that she couldn't read because they were written in a roman-based alphabet.

Shaking her head, she snatched up her scrolls and finally plopped down on the foot of the bed-- just in case that bondage-vine... _thing _got any ideas. She had an insane moment where she almost expected it to come to life and attack her like something out of a bad H-novel, then firmly pushed the thought away and vowed to beat the stuffing out of Jiraiya next time she saw him.

A while later, a firm knock on the door interrupted her contemplation of potential escape plans. Without pause, a series of clicks and a faint glow of chakra signaled the locks and wards being undone. The door swung open to reveal Zetsu on the other side.

"If you're not going to wait for a response, why knock in the first place?" she asked rhetorically. As expected, the former Grass-nin didn't reply, simply directed her down the hall. Happy for a change of scenery, she didn't complain.

OoOoOoOoO

_Haruno Sakura_. Kisame rolled the name around on his tongue for a moment, then scoffed; it didn't fit her, past the obvious coloring. She definitely wasn't delicate. Kisame himself could name more than a few ninja that had broken down when faced with a potentially hostile group of shinobi so far above their own level. The girl was obviously still off-balance, but she had adapted to the situation far more easily than any of them would have predicted.

He was intrigued by her, despite himself. In the past, he had always made a point to not get involved with women other than random prostitutes that he would never see again. Regular civilians always wanted more than just a tumble, and kunoichi... Kisame _never _got involved with kunoichi if he could help it. They were far too troublesome, even if the initial battle for dominance always got his blood flowing. The inevitable treachery and attempts on his life when he was in a supposedly 'vulnerable' position irritated him to no end.

But this woman... she wasn't like the others. Kisame's pupils dilated, nostrils flaring as if he'd scented something alluring.

Sakura hadn't reacted how most kunoichi would if they were pressed into a situation far out of their control with their captor. She hadn't tried to maim or seduce him in order to escape. She _had_, however, reacted on a very base level-- that of a female responding to a powerful male's proximity.

He wondered if she had figured it out yet; she'd looked unnerved but clueless as to the reason behind it at the time. And speaking of looks…

The girl had a surprising number of scars for a medic-nin. They weren't large or disfiguring-- the complete opposite, actually. A scattering of thin lines on her arms marked numerous close-encounters with kunai, and small diamonds left by shuriken littered her back. At some point, someone had unsuccessfully tried to hamstring her, if the textbook horizontal slash running across the backs of both her legs was any indication. A shiny patch of burned skin at her hip trailed around her lower back: the glancing blow of a small fireball or stray exploding note.

It hadn't registered as more than a passing thing at the time; he'd been more interested in her wet-and-naked status. He was curious now, though-- why had she neglected to heal them fully? It would be easy for a medic of her caliber to smooth away the blemishes. Weren't kunoichi her age always going on about things like that?

He shook his head at _that_ particular stupidity. Unless the female nins exclusively performed infiltration missions that required them to appear harmless, scars were of little importance. They were expected, really, in their line of work.

Kisame was abruptly dragged out of his musings by the sound of hurried footsteps headed his way.

"Kisame-san!"

He glanced up just as Tobi pushed the door open and peered into his room. "What is it?"

"Where's the fire extinguisher?" he asked urgently.

"In the closet next to the extra room," he replied automatically.

"Thanks!"

Kisame blinked, and he was gone. He listened as the younger man ran down the hall and slammed open the linen closet as directed, then squeaked as what sounded like a mountain of sheets and towels fell on him.

Setting down the scroll he'd been staring at absently, he stood and made his way over to glance down the hall. Tobi managed to struggle his way free of an amorous pillowcase, grabbed the desired bright red cylinder from the inner wall, and booked it back down the hall. He skidded around the corner a bit before he remembered to apply chakra for better traction.

After a moment's pause, Kisame followed at a more sedate pace. When he reached the kitchen, he found an extremely irritated Deidara standing in the middle of a mess. More specifically, every surface of the room was covered in a thin layer of off-white dust. Tobi was nowhere to be seen, though a smudged trail of footsteps led straight into the wall-- behind which was a secret exit. Kisame reflexively tracked over them when he felt Zetsu and the girl headed in their direction.

"What happened in here?" He hadn't _heard _any explosions...

The demolitions expert grimaced and waved a hand expansively. "Tobi." At Kisame's raised eyebrow, he elaborated. "The dumb-ass got it into his head to try and make takoyaki without supervision."

"...He doesn't even _like_ squid."

"I think he was trying to impress that kunoichi, un."

"And he thought burning down the kitchen would be a good way?"

"He said she liked his cooking or something. Maybe she's suicidal?"

"Let's hope not. She'd probably try and take the whole complex down with her."

Deidara grimaced, not bothering to argue the obvious.

OoOoOoO

"Where are we going?"

"Dinner."

"Er, not that I mind being out of that room, but it hasn't been very long since I was fed last. Do you guys really eat this often?"

"Are you implying that we are fat?" Zetsu deadpanned.

"What? No! I--" Sakura cut herself off when it hit her like a ton of bricks-- he was actually _teasing _her. That he had referred to himself in the imperial third person didn't even faze her.

A wicked thought formed, and she skipped ahead a step before she could stop herself. Glancing back, she eyed the way his cloak had been cut extra-large to accommodate the flytrap-like extension on his shoulders, and raised her eyebrows in an exaggerated manner. "Then again..._oof!"_

Sakura was very nearly bowled over as an orange and black blur suddenly appeared out of nowhere and tackled her. She shifted her balance automatically, one hand reflexively coming up to rest lightly on her attacker's head before her brain caught up and she realized that it wasn't actually Naruto-- couldn't be. She pushed down a pang of homesickness.

Wrapping his arms around her middle, Tobi proceeded to bury his masked face in her stomach and started bawling about kamikaze grills and possessed fire extinguishers.

At a loss, she patted his shoulder awkwardly. The motion displaced a cloud of the fine white powder that liberally dusted his clothing, making her sneeze.

A bit of singed cloth caught her attention, and, purely on reflex, she ran a glowing hand down his arm to soothe away the red, blistered skin.

When she felt Zetsu's intent focus on her back, she curled her hand into a fist and let it fall to her side. She refused to look at him, instead staring down at the younger missing-nin that still clung to her. "...Does anyone have a crowbar handy?"

Kisame appeared from inside what she assumed was the kitchen. "Tobi, stop fraternizing with the hostage. The last thing we need is you contracting Lima Syndrome."

The man in question immediately released her and jumped back as if she were contagious. "But I don't _like _beans!" he exclaimed, as if that made perfect sense.

Sakura quirked an eyebrow, forcing herself to act like nothing had happened between her and the former Mist-nin. "'Hostage'?" That was the first hint of their reason for abducting her, but it didn't make sense-- why would _Akatsuki_ need a hostage? They had all but disappeared off the face of the earth for the past few years, with no word on their movements. It had been assumed that they were hunting Jinchuuriki on another continent, or some of the other more delusional theories that were floating around in hushed whispers.

"What did you _think_ we wanted you for, un?" Deidara broke in darkly. The effect was somewhat lessened by the way a small pile of chemical dust was dislodged when he tilted his head slightly.

Sakura propped her hands on her hips and glared at him. "I'd rather not give you any ideas."

"Like you could, in that outfit," he scoffed.

She made a frustrated noise and rolled her eyes. "What is your obsession with my wardrobe?"

"You look like you're wearing a tent."

"It's a normal t-shirt!" Seeing an increasingly familiar glint in the blond's eyes, she lifted a fist and cracked her knuckles. "And I _swear _I will deck you if you so much as get near me with that water bucket, monitoring jutsu or no."

Zetsu's restraining hand landed on her shoulder, and he shot a quelling look at Kisame, whom had cuffed Deidara upside the head. "Perhaps you should return to your room, Haruno-san, before any more childish antics begin."

Sakura grimaced. "There's nothing to _do_ in there," she said, then pointed at Deidara without missing a beat, "and _hell_ no."

"Are the books too dry for you?"

She gave Kisame an annoyed glance. "I've read those before. Multiple times."

Sakura started to say something else, but stopped mid-sentence when a shadow appeared around the corner. She didn't have to see more than a hair-shaded profile to know it was Itachi; she could recognize that cold aura anywhere.

Hands grabbed and restrained her before she even realized she'd been about to charge after the man, weaponless but for her own chakra-enhanced strength and an intense desire to see his blank face broken and smeared with bright, fresh blood.

Itachi didn't even spare her a glance, merely continued on his way until he was out of sight.

Deidara was staring at her, one hand hovering over a pouch at his side. "That would have been beyond stupid, un."

Kisame used his hold on Sakura to shake her a bit. "We do not have to give you so much freedom, kunoichi. It's a privilege that you don't want to lose."

When she didn't reply, he shook her again. "Understood?"

"Yes," she ground out.

"Good." When he was sure she wouldn't try to chase after his partner, Kisame shifted his grip to her shoulders and pushed her towards a suddenly tense-looking Deidara.

"Deidara, Tobi, escort her to the library, then back to her room. Zetsu and I will clean up here." Neither argued; instead they flanked the girl and led her away. Tobi attempted to strike up a conversation with her, continuing on as if she were actually replying to anything he said.

Kisame let himself watch the sway of Sakura's hips as she stalked off after Deidara and Tobi. When they were out of his line of sight, he turned back to Zetsu.

"What was that flash of chakra the kunoichi used? It didn't feel familiar, and too low-range for an aborted attack."

"She healed a burn on Tobi's arm. It appeared to be a simple subconscious reflex, but we have noticed that she is notably less hostile towards him."

"He has that effect; he doesn't 'feel' dangerous. I don't think they've met in the past, either."

"That is correct." There was a pause, then Zetsu's lighter half added, "It could not hurt if she were better disposed toward us."

Kisame gave him a sharp glance. "And how do you propose we accomplish _that?"_

"...We are open to suggestions."

"I'll take care of it." The reply was past his lips almost as the thought was formed, but he didn't bother to take it back. If anything, it gave him more of a claim over the woman.

He really did enjoy a good challenge.

-tbc-


	4. Envy and Insecurities

This chapter includes reference ideas and informationto from one of the lovely TeaLeavesGreen's fanfics. If you've read any of her work, you'll likely recognize it immediately-- and if you don't, why not? TLG delves into stuff that I only _wish_ I had thought of!

As always, a huge thank you to Fallacy/KorinaCaffeine for—well, everything. I d you, dear.

And thanks to Aelibia, for the encouragement and flood of ecards. :D

I'm working on Chapter 5 right now, and it's about… 85-ish done. I hope to finish it over this weekend, so keep an eye out—it will definitely be longer than this chapter, too, as it didn't fight me every step of the way.

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Chapter 4

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The library, Sakura decided, was the absolutely best place in that entire godforsaken complex that she had had permission to enter thus far.

Nestled behind a solid oak door in an improbable corner, the ceilings were slightly higher than those in every other room, even when the building seemed to have been designed with tall residents in mind to begin with. Wooden shelves of a deep mahogany were set into the walls while a few of the free-standing kind were set up in a row to the left. Two tables with matching chairs were placed near the middle, while a cluster of inviting couches and recliners took up the remaining space at the right. Each shelf was stuffed full of books and scrolls of varying sizes, shapes, and colors of every topic she could imagine.

Except--

"Don't touch anything that's warded."

--for that minor detail.

Sakura felt a twitch start up just below her right eye. Irritating man. "Are you going to say that every time we come here?"

The blond in question just scoffed and flopped down onto one of the couches as usual. "Only if you insist on practically drooling over them despite the warning, un."

"_I'm _not the one that sealed all the interesting books."

"'Interesting,' hm?" Deidara smirked, watching as she carefully returned her previous stack back to their proper places. "I thought good girls didn't dabble in kinjutsu."

"You'd be surprised what is and isn't considered forbidden in Konoha."

"Mmm. Like kage bunshin is, but not that one kunoichi's weapon scrolls?"

Sakura turned away from one of the standing history shelves to give him a curious look. "Kunoichi..?"

"Brown hair and eyes, favors blades, was on a team with the Hyuuga prodigy, un?"

An eyebrow kicked up. "You mean Tenten?"

"Yeah, her."

"Er, I hate to break this to you, but it's not like she's the only one to use transport scrolls in that manner."

"Those aren't regular transport scrolls. They're weapons-dedicated with specific protections worked in. It's kind of like Samehada: only Kisame can use it, yeah? So only the shinobi the weapons scroll was _created_ for can use or even decipher it, un."

Sakura cocked her head to the side and frowned. "I can see why that might complicate things, but not to the point of declaring them kinjutsu. Besides, they're perfect for Ten-Ten. She _is_ a Weapon's Mistress--"

_"Mistress?"_ he interrupted, "not just a ranged Specialist?"

"Yes, why?" she replied cautiously. It wasn't exactly a secret and decidedly obvious for anyone that saw her fight. Even her entry in foreign bingo books had her marked that way.

She thought about ignoring him, but curiosity got the better of her. She had never seen the blond so serious before; even when injured in the middle of a _battle _he had acted carefree and almost giddy at times.

Even so, she propped a hip against the chair opposite him instead of sinking into the cushions. Just because they were having a semi-civil, intelligent conversation didn't mean he wasn't going to try something when her guard was down.

Deidara frowned and gave her a searching look. "You really don't...? Must be a cultural thing, un." He sat up from his ungraceful sprawl and ran a hand through his hair.

"During the last Great War, the practice was banned in Iwa and even Suna because so many potentials were slaughtered. Hell, they aren't called the Walking Dead for nothing, un." Deidara gestured broadly. "Think about it. If a Master in training is pitted against a Specialist that has a weapon the Master isn't familiar with yet, who are the odds going to favor?"

Sakura frowned, brow creasing. It was true that her friend had a higher than average number of hospital visits than most shinobi, and... "Temari _did_ seem too confident in the chuunin exams," she muttered, then shook her head. "But don't you see? All that means is that once a potential reaches Master level, they would be extremely difficult to defeat."

She paused, focusing thoughtfully in the middle distance. After a moment she met his eye again and smiled grimly. "I don't pretend to know how other countries treat their specialized shinobi, but in Konoha, we support them in whatever ways we can. Training them, defending them when needed... We take care of our own, Deidara. We make sure they succeed, and in doing so, we as a country are stronger." Her head cocked to the side. "And trust me: Tenten is one of the strongest kunoichi of my generation. She _earned_ her title every step of the way."

He didn't move when she turned back to the bookshelves, though she could feel him staring at the back of her skull.

Her fingertips skimmed lightly over the aged book bindings and scrolls that were stacked meticulously on the deep shelf. They were obviously well cared for, not a single cracked binding or dog-eared page in sight.

The selection itself surprised her: Amid various technique and history scrolls were tomes on psychology and mythology, as well as newer, shiny covers claiming to be instructions on carpentry and general home-upkeep with a detective novel here and there. The oddest one by far was a slim book on caring for guinea pigs, which was stuffed in the corner as if someone was trying to hide it.

Deidara's voice, slightly reserved, broke into her reverie. "Those have to stay in here, un."

She glanced up. "Why? They aren't warded or anything."

He frowned and glanced at the shelf. "Huh. Maybe he forgot?" he muttered, then shook his head. "They belong to Kisame, so you'll have to ask him about borrowing any of them, un."

Sakura jerked her hand back and immediately felt like the worst kind of pervert-- instead of peeking in the bath, she had peeked into his personal privacy, however unintentionally.

Feeling slightly sick, she stalked over to the table holding the stack of scrolls she had already collected, ignoring the odd look he gave her. Picking them up, she let him escort her back to her room without comment.

Somewhere, a higher power was laughing at her.

OoOoOoOoO

Breathing a sigh of relief, Deidara dropped onto the couch in the common room and pulled a handful of clay from the thick canvas bag at his hip.

Kisame was sprawled in another chair, head tipped back and eyes narrowed but focused on nothing, fingers tapping out an annoying rhythm on his bicep. A scroll on an advanced sealing technique lay forgotten on his lap.

Deidara leaned back into the cushions and, ever so slowly, he lifted his legs around and up before cautiously resting them on the coffee table in front of him.

The other man didn't even twitch.

Deidara, however, did. "_What,_ un?"

The larger man's head jerked down at the sound of his voice, and he frowned faintly. "Feet off the table," he muttered half-heartedly.

The blond sighed and did as told, stretching his legs out on the couch beside him instead. "What's wrong? I've never seen you this quiet. It'd be refreshing if it wasn't so disturbing, un."

It didn't look like he'd get a response, but Kisame finally muttered something indistinguishable, then sighed. "Talking to the kunoichi is more difficult than I had anticipated."

The blond stared. "This is about _Sakura?"_

An uncomfortable shrug, "There _is_ a sizeable age gap, not to mention the 'raised in different villages' and 'I'm supposed to be her enemy' issues. I'm having trouble coming up with conversational gambits that won't immediately lead to an argument. What are we going to talk about, 'How to Betray a Village, Lecture One?'"

"Try weather, un?"

"'I'm sure it's nice. Of course, it's not like _I_ would know, since this place doesn't even have _windows_,'" Kisame said, voice raised a few octaves in a rather bad mimic of a certain kunoichi.

"Yeah, good point." Deidara grimaced.

Despite the fact that Kisame had been in the small group that had confronted and summarily recruited him to Akatsuki, Deidara had never held any lasting animosity towards the missing-nin. Even considering the other man's love for bloody battles, he was quite the character, not to mention the best conversationalist of the bunch.

Except, apparently, when it came to women.

He knew that Kisame was, er, _sensitive_ about his physical appearance when it came to the gentler sex, but he hadn't thought it was this bad.

Deidara frowned. "Why is this holding you up now? You haven't exactly had a problem getting grabby with her so far, un. Surprised me, actually. You normally keep that polite distance from girls."

"Saa..." The larger man scratched his jaw and sighed, the deep exhale almost drowning out the sandpapery quality of fingernails scraping across a bristly 5 o'clock shadow. "That's different-- _she's_ different. Besides, that kind of thing doesn't require speech to communicate, mm? Touch, scent...those don't lie. Words confuse things."

A heavy silence descended, and Deidara glanced about for something to break the tension in the room. Eyes catching on the dark television, the perfect thing came to mind. An almost manic grin tugged at his lips, and he welcomed it. "Sounds like she's got you _tongue-tied_, un."

Kisame glared half-heartedly. "Weren't you banned from watching those late night re-runs?"

"I'll have you know that they're _classics,_ un. And how would you know where it was from, anyway?"

"Tobi was singing that stupid song for a week straight after you let him stay up with you one night. Complete with a bad accent."

Deidara winced and offered an apologetic smile. "Oops?"

The other man just grimaced and went back to brooding. Crap.

He sighed and shoved the hunk of clay he had been absently manipulating back into the bag at his hip. "Alright, un. Talking to Girls, 101." He opened his mouth to continue, then paused and closed it when he realized he wasn't sure what to say.

"Hmm... Why not just ask her about herself, un? Women like to talk your ear off about their own hobbies and interests, and she seems smart enough that you won't be bored out of your mind. Though if she starts jabbering about shoes or something, just nod and smile at appropriate moments, un. And compliment her a lot, hm? They love that. Oh, and touch her hair or arm, but pretend like it's an accident. Don't come on too strong, or she'll get skittish. Or bitchy, un."

Kisame stared at him. "What are you, the missin-nin's guide to women?"

Deidara just shrugged.

Shaking his head, the former Mist nin stood and nodded. "Thanks," he murmured, then headed towards the door. He had just reached it when the other man's voice made him pause.

"Oh, one more thing, un."

Kisame glanced over his shoulder to find Deidara regarding him seriously.

"Call her by name."

His brow furrowed. "I did."

"Only once, and you weren't even talking to her, un. She's got to be confused enough as it is. Don't make it worse by sending mixed signals."

Kisame nodded, acknowledging and accepting that, and left without another word.

Deidara stared at the empty doorway for a moment longer before heaving a heavy sigh. "Good luck."

OoOoOoOoO

Kudos and pixel cookies to anyone who can tell me what classic Brit comedy Deidara referenced. :3


	5. Sugar and Spice?

In Your Hands  
Chapter 5 - Sugar and Spice?

A/N: Sorry guys, meant to get this out earlier. Having a rough time lately.

Also, I need to stop writing when I'm hungry.

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Kisame had been moving in predatory circles around her for days. Sakura had half-expected them to take turns at bringing her meals and seeing to her other needs when required, but more often than not the former Mist-nin fulfilled the duties.

In all honesty, his presence wouldn't have bothered her so much if she hadn't gotten used to having him around quite so fast-- it had reached the point where she neglected to even take a swipe at him when he snuck up on her one afternoon.

Absently doing crunches while hanging from the ceiling by her feet, Sakura had been compiling a mental map of the base from the areas she could enter relatively unharmed up to that point. So focused on her task, she somehow missed it when the wards and locks were undone and the door pushed open.

She jumped when Kisame abruptly appeared in her field of vision, almost losing her footing.

"Can you cook?"

Nonplussed, she replied without thinking. "Yes."

"Good. Come on."

"...Why?" Sakura had a sinking feeling that had nothing to do with her flip down to the floor.

"It's your turn."

"Aren't you afraid I'll just poison the lot of you and be done with it?"

"Not really. If you refuse, you starve. Cooperation gets you privileges," he said, gesturing for her to follow as he turned and started to walk back down the hall. She scampered after him. "Besides, I'll watch, and both you and Tobi will be sampling everything before we eat."

She blinked. "Why Tobi?"

Kisame watched her from the corner of his eye, considering. "He's a good kid."

"And therefore an acceptable loss?" Sakura sniped.

"Therefore you won't poison him," he replied sharply.

"How do you figure that? He's still Akatsuki."

He shrugged easily. "Because you're a good person with an inquisitive nature. You want to know why he joined."

Something about the way he said it made her glance at him curiously. "You don't know?"

"It never came up. It's none of my business, anyway. We all had our reasons."

"What were yours?"

"Doesn't matter anymore," he replied evenly, a note of finality in his voice.

Knowing she wouldn't get any more answers, Sakura changed the subject as they walked into the kitchen. "Why don't you or one of the others just cook?"

"You've seen what happens when Tobi tries. Deidara can manage breakfast, and you wouldn't be able to stomach anything Zetsu might serve." At her questioning look, he added, "You don't want to know—trust me."

Looking slightly green at the possibilities, she asked, "What about you?"

"Mm...I'm not always around _to_ do it."

_Interesting._ "Where do you go?" she asked casually, moving around to glance through the contents of the refrigerator and cabinets.

"That would be telling."

"Yes, it's generally the correct response to a question. Soon we might even graduate to whole conversations"

"Perish the thought," he murmured, a small smile curving his lips.

Sakura rolled her eyes. "How many people?"

"Just five. Zetsu eats by himself."

A quick mental tally of the people she had encountered during her stay matched the number he gave. She frowned. It could be possible that they really were the only people there, but it seemed rather unlikely.

"No one else?"

He cast her an amused glance from where he was leaning against the table, arms crossed. "Stop fishing, Sakura."

She made a face at him and promptly turned away mock-huffily. As soon as he couldn't see her expression, Sakura grimaced to herself. Recently Kisame had started calling her just by name, where as before he had at least tacked on a polite honorific-- on the rare occasion he used it at all, of course.

And he kept _talking_ to her about random, inconsequential things that somehow turned out to be really interesting after all; like where the complex got its water supply from, for example. The underground aquifer wasn't surprising, but the mix of new jutsu and old technology that they had apparently used to tap into it--

"So, Deidara tells me you were 'molesting' my books."

Eyes wide, Sakura's head snapped around to stare at Kisame. "_What?"_

He smirked, the expression very self-satisfied. "I'll take that as a 'yes.'"

She flushed and turned away, hiding under the guise of gathering what she needed for the meal. "Anything left unwarded is fair game. Besides, it's not like the shelves are labeled; for all I knew, it was a communal shelf."

He didn't reply, but he didn't lose the smug expression, either.

Shaking her head, Sakura worked mostly on autopilot, mixing ingredients and making Kisame chop vegetables when he wouldn't let her near the kitchen knives. Even though the mockery of domestic bliss galled her, Sakura kept one thing in mind: they were willing to give her "rewards" for good behavior.

Depending on what those rewards entailed, she might just be able to barter herself a trip outside in exchange for something else. If she _could_ get outside, then there was a better chance she could formulate a viable escape route; finding a way around their monitoring jutsu would be useless if she couldn't get away fast enough afterward.

Glancing at Kisame from the corner of her eye, Sakura shivered and quickly turned back to her work.

It didn't escape her notice that there were very few things she could offer, but she refused to think about it until she had a better handle on the situation...because while she _was _trained to exploit any enemy weakness that presented itself, there were some things she refused to do. Demeaning herself was one of them.

But then...she had the feeling that Kisame, or _any_ of the others, really, would be offended if she offered something like that.

It was a surprisingly comforting thought.

OoOoOoOoO

A while later, as the food simmered and steamed, Sakura crossed her arms, propped a hip against the counter, and finally addressed something that had been bothering her for a while. "You're repressing, aren't you? You have been this whole time."

"Mm?" Kisame raised an eyebrow, masking the cagey look in his eyes with a politely interested expression. "What do you mean?"

"You repressed your chakra so I wouldn't feel you coming-- that's standard procedure. What I don't understand is why you're still doing it."

Instead of responding verbally, his chakra signature suddenly increased until it swam around her as Kakashi's did. She shot him a Look. He smirked in reply and let it swell even higher until it evened off around what she normally felt from Tsunade. But...it still felt restricted.

Annoyed, Sakura turned her back on him and grabbed a large serving bowl from the cabinet. "If you're not going to take me seriously--"

Kisame's full power abruptly crashed over her like a massive tsunami releasing all of its might on a single, tiny shell. It beat against her relentlessly until the very air was dragged from her lungs and for an insane moment she thought she might simply _shatter--_

Still trying to catch her breath, Sakura didn't react when he appeared close behind her, nor when he took the bowl from her shaking grasp and set it out of the way. The animalistic desire to roll over and show her soft underbelly in submittal almost threw rational thought out the window.

"I'm told it's...overwhelming, at first." Steadying hands landed on her hips and, instead of trying to distance herself from the source of her discomfort, Sakura leaned back against his chest and immersed herself in it.

Kisame chuckled roughly, having expected her to push him away. "Stubborn."

"Leaf," she countered, proud when it came out even and mostly unaffected. "And smart. It's easier to get used to this much chakra in one person if you're in close contact with them. I think I'm one of the few people that can physically stand to touch Naruto when he's drawing on the Kyuubi's power."

His chakra roiled in response, something she didn't quite understand. It made her breath hitch and her head fall limply forward, fingers grasping for purchase on the countertop.

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Sakura was by no means stick-thin, nor was she excessively plump, though the latter would be difficult for a dedicated, focused kunoichi such as her to accomplish. Instead, the loose shirts she seemed to prefer hid pleasant curves and the toned muscles of her profession.

She still felt tiny in his hands, Kisame realized. Not that it was anything new, of course, due to his excessive height in a nation full of people of an almost diminutive stature, he was used to towering over everyone.

Even his build was more muscular than most from wielding the heavy Samehada, though nothing like some of the odd civilian men he had observed overseas. Who would have thought that building up an almost grotesque level of muscle definition by lifting weights and other simplistic training methods was a viable profession to some people?

He had thought that Hidan was lying when the man had mentioned the "body builders" during one of his early rants about the many groups of heathens that were going to hell for not embracing his bloody death god, but then Kisame had been sent out on a mission and encountered one of the _competitions_-- he grimaced in remembered disgust.

Pushing away the memory of half-naked, posing, oil-slathered morons, Kisame dropped his head forward and nosed against Sakura's hair. Inhaling deeply, he was suddenly grateful that she had disdained the few scented bath products that had been left behind by Hidan, and, surprisingly, Sasori.

The mixture of citrus, clove oil, and sandalwood had never agreed with him, not to mention the fact that, as a rule, shinobi tended to stay away from distinctive fragrances that could give away their presence. Perhaps it had simply been the missing-nins' subtle way of courting death.

The kunoichi in front of him, however, smelled like body heat, soap, and _woman_ (and maybe a little soy sauce, though that part was from the stir-fry she had just prepared).

He pressed closer until his nose brushed the back of her neck...

And then grinned and stepped back a moment before Sakura's elbow would have impacted with his gut.

The kunoichi shot him a half-annoyed, half reluctantly amused look over her shoulder, then gave a haughty sniff and acted as if nothing had happened. Kisame reigned in his chakra to a tolerable level and regained his position leaning against the table.

A moment later Deidara poked his head into the kitchen. The inquisitive blond darted a glance between them before settling on the former Mist-nin with a raised eyebrow. "Everything okay, un?"

"Mm, fine. Why don't you go tell everyone that dinner will be ready in a few minutes?"

The other brow kicked up, and Deidara seemed to be suppressing a smirk. "Right. I'll do that, un."

OoOoOoOoO

Sakura shifted her chair so that it was turned partially away from where Tobi sat to her right and politely kept her eyes elsewhere when the man tilted up his mask just enough to eat comfortably without actually baring his face.

The move unfortunately gave her a better view of Itachi, but she would just have to deal with it for the duration of the meal. As luck would have it, the elder Uchiha continued to ignore her existence as he had every other time they'd encountered one another during her enforced stay there.

Everyone noticed, but no one commented on it. She _had_ been taught by one of the most obsessively masked shinobi around, after all. If anything, she knew when to respect a person's privacy.

Conversation flowed around her, slightly guarded at first, but quickly smoothing out until it was as if she weren't in the room at all. Not to say that they discussed their plans for her, but the topics were random, open, and mostly friendly.

Deidara and Kisame bickered good-naturedly about the quality of a particular onsen in Tea country while Tobi spoke exuberantly with Zetsu, who had decided to join them after all, though he merely sipped at a cup of tea instead of eating anything. Itachi was mostly silent, though he offered the occasional comment to each conversation when he deemed it necessary.

It was somewhat startling to be hit with the realization that there were so few of them left. Sakura knew logically that there had only been ten full members to begin with, but when each was probably strong enough to fell a village all on their own... That kind of power was overwhelming.

It didn't really help that they all had personality quirks beyond the "unconscionable killer" mindset. Any of them could have been a friend, except for Itachi, of course.

But as she sat there at a table surrounded by five unique but very mortal men that she had sworn to see defeated...she was filled with a rush of grim satisfaction that _yes_, they were not all-powerful. They could die.

...But if these people, these rightful prodigies of strength and intelligence and whatever else it was they wished...if _they_ could die, then what about everyone else? Even the above-average-but-not-genius shinobi were walking targets these days.

Tensions were already high with the war between Sound and Konoha brewing, and even uninvolved countries were subtly trying to take down strong or influential ninja wherever they could, half afraid of getting dragged into something that they couldn't survive… because if neither side had enough able-bodied shinobi to fight, then there wouldn't be a war at all, right?

Small-minded thinking like that was why Sakura hated politicians. They never knew or cared about the real consequences of their decisions, what their laws and orders meant to the shinobi they commanded. Sometimes she thought them no better than the people they tried to police.

She couldn't wait until Naruto was Hokage. _Things would be different then_ she thought with a fond smile. _'He's already changed so much.'_

A voice suddenly called her name, breaking into her reverie. "And what are you thinking about, un?"

Sakura glanced up, realizing that the table's occupants had mostly disappeared while she was distracted. Only Deidara and Kisame remained, though the former was leaning in the doorway, having just deposited his dirty plate and silverware in the sink next to where Kisame stood. She blinked distractedly at the blond, who she realized had been the one to speak.

"Sharks," she murmured, not realizing at first what she'd said.

Deidara's laughter echoed as he disappeared down the hall.


	6. A Step Forward

In Your Hands

Chapter 6

* * *

A few days later, Sakura found out what her reward for cooking dinner was. Considering the circumstances, it was a very pleasant surprise.

She had on more than one occasion complained, loudly, about the deplorable lack of floor space in her confines. Honestly, how did they expect her to keep in shape when she could barely pace without running into something?

Of course, she had also dropped less than subtle hints about wanting to go out into the sunlight again, but those were blatantly ignored as if they had never passed her lips.

So instead of breathing crisp, fresh air, Sakura found herself escorted to a simplistic yet well cared-for dojo. A gorgeous pale oak composed the floor, the walls bare except for a few decorative calligraphic scrolls. A slightly uneven discoloration on the back wall marked where a large weapons display had once stood; an esoteric suit of armor and a pert taiko drum left standing sentinel to nothing.

She found it odd that her captors had been so accommodating with requests for things to keep her occupied, though she suspected that the act was more an effort to keep her out of their hair than being good hosts, however forced her stay may have been.

On the up side, they'd also consequently given her access to a larger portion of the complex than she would have expected. They barred the weapons storage and their personal bedrooms, of course, but most other areas were open to her as long as she had an escort or someone actively monitoring her.

That was another surprise—for although they had the means to monitor her non-stop, the Akatsuki members had been remarkably sparse in actually using them. Oh, they checked on her periodically, they were just more likely to visit her than use the jutsu. Sakura wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

One thing hadn't changed, though: Whenever Sakura was in 'her' room, the door was always locked tight. Needless to say, she tried to find as many excuses to wander around as possible.

Kisame alone had given her open invitation to his quarters. Instead of the leering smile she had expected, however, she could detect no hint of innuendo in the offer. The opportunity for genuine human companionship, no strings attached, had filled her with such longing that she had decided then and there to keep as far from the man's room as possible.

So, suddenly finding herself with an unknown amount of 'free' time on her hands, Sakura resolved herself to get some physical training in. Long hours at the hospital combined with various missions had left Sakura with very little time to train recently, and she found herself looking forward to the change of pace.

After she'd changed into a pair of loose grey workout pants and shirt, a distracted-looking Deidara had escorted her to the dojo itself with a sharp warning to not overdo it.

She decided to stick with a set of the katas she'd convinced Gai-sensei to teach her before her second Chuunin Exam. In theory, it was simple enough to not set off any of their alarms, as well as be something they'd likely have no interest in. Even now, she could feel one of them monitoring her chakra signature from another part of the complex.

Tranquil with an underlying sense of mania, Sakura decided it was most likely Zetsu.

The ability to determine who was monitoring her through the jutsu was turning out to be useful, however unexpected. Each man had a different 'feel' to his chakra, but on a different level than she experienced in her years living in Konoha.

Zetsu was often an earthy sort of Zen with an overtone of static. His chakra was much like the man himself, so subtle and peripheral that it often took her a while to realize it was there at all.

Deidara was bright and manic, full of life. His checks were often quick flash-bangs of contact that left her feeling singed with adrenaline on a level she couldn't touch.

And Kisame...

Kisame was like a deceptively shallow pool of water that hid something predatory in its depths. His chakra glided through her pathways like velvet: smooth yet abrasive in all the right ways.

The irony was not lost on her.

Tucking the thoughts away for later dissection, Sakura went through a series of stretches and cleared her mind of everything else. Releasing a steady breath, she slid into the ready position and began.

She was a bit unsteady at first, but muscle memory quickly had her running through the early forms: sharp, abrupt movements that taught the correct place the student should be in once each was complete.

_"Control yourself; let others do what they will. This does not mean you are weak. Control your heart, obey the principles of life. This does not mean others are stronger."_ Gai's familiar exuberant voice repeated the age-old precept through her mind as if the man himself was standing in the room. She half-expected to hear an admonishment on an improperly angled elbow a second before she corrected it herself.

After running through the kata a few times, she transitioned into the proper, fluid manner. Though the forms were exactly the same, Sakura felt the difference in more ways than merely the physical. Distantly, she felt her chakra flow slowly rise and stabilize somewhere just above her normal level, and closed her eyes against a sting of sweat.

Some time later, Sakura abruptly froze in place, a kick still chambered.

"What do you want?" The surprisingly peaceful quality of her own voice forced her eyes open. She peered at the intruder, refusing to let him spoil the moment.

Tobi scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Sakura-san. I didn't mean to interrupt, but...um. That style seems familiar. Is it based in Fire Country?"

"...No." While true, it had been a popular choice there for use against heavy-fist style fighters and Hyuuga members alike. "I think it's from one of the northern countries."

"Oh." He visibly drooped a bit, but perked up again after a moment. "Can I try?"

"Are you going to use it against me?"

"Of course not! Tobi is a good boy."

Oddly enough, she believed his sincerity; the young man (though unsure of his actual age, Sakura always thought of him that way) was utterly guileless about most things. The line between enemy and friend, when it came to her, was one of them. "I suppose."

Radiating eagerness, Tobi all but bounced into place a comfortable distance in front of her and bowed. Feeling more than a little silly, Sakura gave a short bow in return and slid smoothly into the beginning stance.

Curious about his abilities, she didn't bother with the early forms, merely moved more slowly than her former pace. He watched her intently the first time through, and then began to mimic her movements. There were certain points where he faltered, but quickly fixed his stance before moving on. He rarely made the same mistake twice, even when Sakura increased the pace.

Their impromptu training regime continued for a while until Sakura could no longer find fault with Tobi's movements.

Some time later found Sakura sprawled on a bench against wall as she watched her impromptu student move fluidly through the katas he'd learned not half an hour ago as if he'd been born to them.

She was tempted to ask him to spar, but finally decided against it. She didn't think the others would take kindly to it. Kisame, on the other hand, might like to...

Sakura shook herself and refocused on her toes, leaning forward to pull up her drooping socks. '_Stop thinking about him'_, she told herself, '_You'll only get yourself in trouble.'_

Tobi, of course, chose that moment to demonstrate his abilities as a mind reader. "What do you think of Kisame-san?"

She didn't look at him, instead pretending to fix the cuff of her pants. "Why do you ask?"

Silence met her question, forcing her to glance up; Tobi had plopped down on her bench, though he had left a wisely comfortable distance between them. His hands he clasped loosely in his lap, the toe of one sandal scuffing against the floor. "He likes you."

Sakura snorted. "You think?" she muttered.

"Not like that." At her raised eyebrow, he scratched the back of his head sheepishly and added, "Okay, not _only_ like that."

"No offense, but missing-nin generally aren't in the habit of caring about their hostages that way. He's always either polite or coming on to me, and he's polite with everyone. It's sexual, nothing more."

"He warned me away from you with Lima Syndrome for a reason, nee-chan, and it wasn't for my own sake."

Sakura glanced at him sharply, unsure if she should comment about his new form of address for her or focus on getting more information on the current biggest thorn in her side. Not surprisingly, information won out.

"What do you mean?"

He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "He...Tobi thinks he wants you, but not in the casual sense. And he doesn't know what to do."

Feeling rather clueless, Sakura shook her head. "How do you figure that?" It didn't pass her notice that Tobi reverted to referring to himself in the third person when uncomfortable about something; he must have picked up the quirk from Zetsu.

"Little things. He keeps an eye on you even though he can feel where you are in the complex. He watches you without complaint, even when he has other things to do. He told Deidara-sempai to stop flirting with you because it makes you uneasy, even though sempai was just teasing. He doesn't like casual touching with _anyone_, but—"

Suddenly Tobi was in front of her, pulling to her to her feet and into his arms.

"Watch," he whispered, then hugged her: one arm slung chastely around her back, the other curled up so his gloved hand brushed her neck in an almost-intimate caress that felt distinctly wrong coming from this man.

"Tobi."

Sakura would have been surprised if Kisame _hadn't_ picked that moment to arrive and break them up. Tobi gave her a final squeeze before releasing her and stepping back.

"Yes, Kisame-san?" he asked cheerfully.

"...Zetsu needs your assistance with something. He's in the garden."

The younger man visibly perked up. "Oh! The epiphyllum oxypetalum should be about ready for transplant!" He started towards the door, calling out a, "Bye, nee-chan!" over his shoulder before he disappeared from sight.

Off-balance, Sakura turned away and walked to the end of the bench. Grabbing a towel from the seat, she buried her face in the thick cloth. It smelled like home, and for a minute, she allowed herself to be swept away by visions of Konoha and an aching homesickness.

Tobi wasn't right...was he? Did Kisame actually think of her as more than a potential conquest, or was it just a trick to make her complacent? Either way...nothing could come from it. She had to remember that Kis-- that _all_ of these men were just using her as a means to an end; who knew what that would mean for Konoha and its allies?

If she could manage to subtly encourage a certain someone's Lima Syndrome, it couldn't hurt, right? If he thought he really _did _care for her, there was a better chance of escape.

The only question concerned how, exactly, she was supposed to flirt without inviting more than she could handle. Keeping their conversations light seemed to help. If she could just keep things at a semi-friendly distance without actually _becoming_ friends...she might just get out of this in one piece.

Distracted, she jumped when warm, callused fingers brushed over her neck: a lingering stroke. It took her a moment to realize it was the same spot Tobi had touched earlier. Her hand flew up and caught Kisame's before he could pull away. "What are you doing?"

Teeth flashed in her peripheral vision, a sharp smile. "You had some dust there."

"And you couldn't have told me?"

She hadn't let go of his hand.

"Less effective that way."

He stepped closer, body heat a furnace against her back.

"Really."

"Mhmm."

She let herself laugh softly. "Liar."

He didn't deny it, instead changed the subject slightly. "What was that about?" His fingers twitched against her collarbone, beneath the edge of her shirt; his thumb feathered over her neck.

She shivered, blamed it on a draft coming through the open door. _'Keep it light,'_ she reminded herself, _'but open. Just be yourself.'_

"I'm...not really sure. Is he always like that?" She finally released his fingers and stepped away, waving her hand vaguely as she searched for the right word. "So..._earnest?"_

"Usually. Like I said, he's a good kid."

"...Yeah. I know some people like that." Sakura stretched, and then wrinkled her nose. "I need a shower."

The same callused fingers skimming down her arms almost distracted her from the feel of Kisame's nose hovering over her shoulder. "...What is your obsession with sniffing me?" she asked, happy it had come out more annoyed than breathless.

His chuckle skittered pleasantly down her spine. "Didn't you know? Sweat produces natural pheromones to attract the opposite sex."

She shook her head, medical side taking over. "Not so much in women as men, though. Over time, women lost the ability to naturally produce sufficient quantities for that kind of thing. The androstenol pheremone is usually destroyed by antiperspirants, and--" she bit her lip to cut off that line of thought; discussing reproductive pheromones with this particular man was definitely not a good idea.

"'And'...?"

"...And your sense of smell can't possibly be that strong." Even if he _had_ smelled Kiba on her after almost a week had passed.

"Want to bet?"

"I'd rather have a shower. By myself."

"Hmm, you know better."

Sakura sighed and walked towards the door, shooting him an exasperated look over her shoulder when he followed obediently. "That's a silly rule. You'll let me wander around, but I still can't bathe alone?" She shook her head when he just smirked at her. "I still say you're just using it as an excuse to try and see me naked."

His grin widened as he followed her down the hall. "It's a definite plus; that's for sure."

"Lech."

"Prude."

"Voyeur."

"Tease."

"Pervert!"

"Losing your touch, hmm?"

Sakura sputtered. "...Tramp."

Kisame huffed in mock offense. "I'll have you know I have very discerning tastes."

Reaching the bathroom, he pushed open the door and ushered her inside, following a step behind. As per usual, he settled against the far wall with crossed arms and a patient expression.

He perked up, however, when instead of ducking behind the shower curtain to undress like usual, Sakura simply turned her back on him. He watched as if in slow motion as she reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling the garment up and off. With barely a pause, her hands smoothed down her sides. Fingers hooked under the elastic waistband of her workout pants; she pushed until the fabric pooled around her ankles.

In full view.

Right in front of him.

In plain sight.

...God, she had a nice ass. Creamy skin, too. Her hips had fit comfortably in his hands the first time they'd been in this room alone, and from the little glimpses she was giving him now, surely her breasts would feel even better--

Kisame stifled a groan and surreptitiously adjusted himself when he thought she wasn't looking.

Distraction. Yes.

"How did you get that scar?"

Sakura glanced over her shoulder at him in surprise. To the delight of his libido, she also half-turned towards him and bent forward slightly as she glanced down at herself. _Very_ nice breasts encased in black lace-- '_Why would she wear lacy lingerie when she was just going to be training?'_ a little voice thought to ask.

There were little bells going off in his head, ringing through his nerves and bringing every single one of his senses to attention.

Her mouth moved, and he had to drag his focus away from her pink tongue back to her actual reply.

"Which one?"

It took him a moment to pick. "...The burn."

Those plump, pretty lips quirked up in an almost-smile and skimmed her fingertips across the small patch of warped, melted scar tissue.

Hands fisting against his biceps, Kisame had to fight against the urge to pin her to the floor and explore it with his mouth...or maybe beg her to touch _his_ scars instead; that would certainly keep her occupied with him for a while...the longer the better.

"This...is from a training accident. I was learning a new technique, but when I tested it out, it rebounded and grazed me."

Another caught his eye. "What about that one on your arm—kunai?"

She nodded with a rueful smile. "First chuunin exam. Young and stupid."

It became a sort of game: him finding scars, some almost invisible unless one was paying _very_ close attention, and Sakura would give a short explanation of how she got them.

The rough slash on her back originated from her first time fighting an opponent that wielded a chain whip. The cut across her hamstrings was from backing into a wire snare. The oddly scattered punctures on her right shoulder blade were from helping out at the Academy. The ragged bite mark on her left ankle was from a baby badger she'd been hired to rescue as a genin-- a 'cute little brock,' as she called it.

It was probably pretty bad that he wasn't actually _listening_ to her anymore so much as enjoying the flow of her voice, but it was so hard for him to multitask when his mind didn't want to jump off the track it was on at the moment. And that track just happened to be the one leading straight to a naked, wet kunoichi who was warming up to him by the second.

Something in his lower gut clenched in a way that made him curl his toes and set his jaw, and he shifted his weight nervously.

Wait, was she..? Kisame blinked, but the rosy tint didn't leave her cheeks.

Sakura was actually _blushing,_ eyes focused on the prominent bulge in his pants.

It took a moment to register that she'd stopped speaking, but before he could think of a properly suggestive comment, she retreated behind that damned opaque shower curtain. A soft rustle and a slim hand emerged to drop two scraps of lace on top of her small pile of clothing.

Kisame swallowed thickly. _"Tease."_

Her reply was a soft, throaty laugh as she turned on the faucet.

OoOoOoOoOoO

At first, Sakura thought she was imagining it. Water flowed down; it was a law of nature. Water from an elevated faucet, such as a showerhead, pattered onto her skin and then trickled down towards the drain.

Water did _not_ gather in large droplets on her hair and shoulders and elevated arms, then _slide_ together to form an even larger droplet that held its form like gelatin. It also did not move like a sentient form across her back and down the dip of her spine before moving up again to repeat the circuit.

Such as what she currently found herself sharing a shower stall with.

_"Kisame!"_ she shrieked.

His reply, filtered through the curtain, was far, _far_ too innocent sounding. "Yes?"

"What," Sakura asked through clenched teeth, "the _hell _do you think you're doing?" She swatted vainly at the Sentient Water, but every time she managed to break it, it merely slid back together and moved out of reach between her shoulder blades.

"Helping?" he chuckled. "I'll play nice."

The Sentient Water suddenly gathered across a point on her lower back that had been a little sore all morning and increased in temperature until it was just shy of being uncomfortable. Then it _surged_ against her like a series of whirlpool jets at exactly the right angle and pressure.

_"Ooooooohgod..." _Sakura whimpered, not even bothering to try to stifle the noise.

She made a face when she heard another knowing chuckle, but didn't exactly ask him to stop, either. Although...

"...If that goes anywhere inappropriate, I'll castrate you."

When all she got in reply this time was a non-committal grunt, she peeked over her shoulder at the impromptu back massager somewhat nervously. Then another thought occurred to her. "You can't...er, _feel..."_

"Not how you mean, unfortunately. Just enough to direct and control it."

The Sentient Water finally stopped its wonderful torture of her back and split up, half going liquid and swirling down the drain while the other collected and focused on her neck; it even held a bit of soap, and soon bubbles were everywhere. Sakura stifled a laugh at the absurdity of it.

"He didn't mean it like that, you realize," she drawled in an amused tone as she lathered up her hair.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," was the flippant reply.

"Tobi. He was just teasing you. Even started calling me 'nee-san'."

"...Really."

"Yeah. Kind of surprised me, actually."

"Hmm." Apparently that meant the other man wasn't a threat, since Kisame finally released the Sentient Water jutsu completely. "I think he had a big family. He acts like he had a lot of siblings or cousins his age as a kid. Familiarity is good for him."

The last comment was an interesting slip, but she decided to let it go for now. "That must have been interesting. I'm an only child. What about you?"

A certain quiet settled over the room, broken only by Kisame's soft sigh above the white noise of water on tile. "I had a little brother. Kinen."

Sakura stilled under the spray for a moment before continuing to rinse the last of the shampoo from her hair and skin. "Had?"

"He died young. Illness."

"I'm sorry."

"Mm."

Hesitantly, "Can I ask...?"

"Diphtheria."

Head whipping around, she jerked the curtain back just enough to stare at him incredulously. "But there's a _vaccine _for that!"

Kisame shook his head, expression closed off and eyes hard. "My clan is supposed to be immune to it, so he didn't get the vaccine. Of course, they neglected to factor in the part about him having a weaker immune system because he was born prematurely."

"They wouldn't treat him?" Her voice rose in outrage.

"He was given antibiotics, but it advanced too quickly. They refused to hospitalize him after that." Seeing her about to protest, he added quietly, "They aren't overly concerned with providing much beyond basic healthcare, Sakura. Mist's government has strict regulations in place for medicines and medical procedures, so everything has to be approved by a local official before being administered. 'Survival of the fittest' is more than a saying there; it's a way of life."

"That's..." _Barbaric. Inconceivable. Despicable. Inhuman. Unforgivable._

No wonder he had left.

She didn't have to finish the sentence. He already knew what she meant, could see the horror and righteous anger in her eyes.

He glanced away. "Are you almost done in there?"

An unspoken request to let it go.

"...Yes."

Sakura slipped under the water a final time to rinse off any soapy residue, then turned off the tap and grabbed a towel. It wasn't until after she'd wrapped it around herself and stepped out onto the bathmat that she realized something. "Damnit."

"What?"

"I forgot to bring a change of clothing." She wrinkled her nose and frowned at the small pile she'd discarded earlier; no one liked putting on dirty garments after having just gotten clean. Nor did she especially feel like walking back to her room in just a towel.

Kisame eyed her bare legs in an appreciative yet distracted manner, then walked over to the inset shelving where the fresh bath linens were kept. Reaching up to the top shelf, he pulled down a robe and handed it to her. It was large and obviously belonged to him, but the thick terrycloth covered her from neck to toe and felt much more secure than her current lack of attire.

Sakura offered him a small but genuine smile. "Thank you."

The extra material was tied up around her midsection with the belt so it wouldn't trip her, the towel draped over the rail after her hair had been rubbed dry and finger-combed. Gathering her dirty clothes into a bundle under one arm, she turned to her unnaturally quiet companion and found him staring off into space again.

She bumped her shoulder gently against his arm. "Okay?"

Kisame blinked and glanced down at her as if surprised to find her so close. Impulsively, he reached out and tucked a lock of damp hair behind her ear; she didn't pull away.

"...Yeah. Let's go."

* * *

Author's Notes:

_"Control yourself, let others do what they will. This does not mean you are weak. Control your heart, obey the principles of life. This does not mean others are stronger." _  
**--Southern Dragon Style (Kung Fu) Motto**

Oh, and I can't believe I forgot to mention this earlier… when Deidara quoted a Brit Comedy in a previous chapter, it was from the show "Red Dwarf." One lovely reader caught it, and kudos to them:D (If you want in on the joke, search for "toung-tied red dwarf" on youtube and watch the first video. Sheer brilliance)


	7. Footsie

In Your Hands

Chapter 7

A/N: Sorry this has been taking so long, guys. I've been having some trouble with keeping the mood consistent, work's and classes have been hectic, etc. -hides- 

I'm actually breaking this chapter up and posting the first half now, since it's the latter bit that's giving me all the trouble. Hope this will tide you over for now.

As always, thanks to KorinaCaffeine and Aelibia for the beta.

Cheers!

* * *

�

Sakura and Deidara both glanced up from their respective plates when Kisame finally wandered into the kitchen at a quarter past nine the next morning. 

Deidara got to the heart of the matter immediately. "You look like hell."

Sakura surreptitiously kicked his ankle under the table, but didn't disagree. Privately, she even agreed. No matter what time she was allowed out of her room in the mornings, Kisame was always awake and present before her, usually cooking breakfast or talking animatedly with one of the others. She had never seen the man so disheveled.

Kisame didn't reply past a low grunt as he shuffled over to the counter and poured himself a mug of coffee. He still wore what she assumed were his pajamas, feet bare against the cold tile floor. Surprisingly enough, he wasn't wearing his hitai-ate; the lack of which had her blinking stupidly at him for a moment. Thinking back, she couldn't remember having ever seen him without it. 

When he finally flopped into the chair next to her, Sakura had to stop herself from reaching out to brush the loose hair from his eyes; had his sclera not been black, she was sure they would have been bloodshot and as weary as the rest of him. 

Sakura was so concerned, in fact, that she neglected to pull away when a large hand curled around her wrist, calloused fingertips settling on the thin skin over her pulse. Deidara watched the byplay curiously, but thankfully didn't comment on it. 

Switching her chopsticks to her free hand, she continued eating quietly. 

"So, when's the wedding, un?"

_'...Or maybe he was simply waiting for the right moment,'_ she thought, choking on a bite of rice. 

Kisame didn't react, other than to take another sip of coffee. "June. You aren't invited."

Sakura's sputtering only increased until she finally grabbed for her glass of orange juice. Unfortunately, she'd emptied it a few minutes previously and was left with nothing to wash down the persistent bit of food. A mug was pushed into her hand, which she gratefully drank from, heedless of the liquid's temperature.

After the first swallow, the flavor registered on her taste buds, and Sakura sighed in appreciation as she slumped back in her chair. Catching the odd looks the two men were giving her, she smiled sheepishly. "I haven't had this in...ages. It's my mother's favorite blend, but it's been hard to find after the tariffs on products from Tea Country increased. Where did you get it?"

Deidara shrugged. "Tobi showed up with it one day, un. Ask him."

"I'll do that, thanks."

Kisame eyed her clinging grip on the mug and finally sighed. "I'm not getting that back, am I?" he asked rhetorically.

"Nope."

He tipped his head back to stare lengthily up at the ceiling for a moment, then finally huffed quietly and scooted his chair back, evidently hell-bent on acquiring another mug. He returned quickly, keeping both hands guardedly around the precious beverage this time.

Deidara narrowed his eyes languidly and leaned back in his chair in one fluid motion, sticking a chopstick into his mouth as he balanced precariously on the wooden legs. "So," he said loudly, breaking the silence. "Just you here with all us guys. Must be pretty scary. I mean, any one of us could whisk you right into our rooms at any moment, un." He glanced teasingly at Kisame. "Not naming any _names_ or anything..." 

Sakura rolled her eyes and snorted quietly. "Yeah, right."

"Well, you never know. Some of us _are _pretty depraved..." He added, shooting the other man another surreptitious glance.

"There's this little thing called 'professional restraint'; maybe you've heard of it?" She eyed him, then smirked. "Well, maybe not. I'm sure you'd rather keep it in your pants than lose it, though."

"Mmmm, but restraint can only go so far, un. Some could say you were inviting it, considering how much that shirt gapes in the front when you lean forward." 

Sakura automatically reached up to clutch at the neckline of her top and opened her mouth to say something scathing, but was interrupted by a low growl that skittered down her spine and made her jump. Her breath caught when she saw the vicious glare Kisame was aiming at the blond.

Deidara's smile widened, eyes gleaming. "See? Scared."

She scowled. "Am not."

"Prove it."

"Fine!" Before either of them could react, Sakura was on her feet and in front of Kisame. She straddled one of his legs rather more closely than was polite or proper, though there was a conspicuous lack of contact—until she leaned forward and hooked an ankle around the back of his calf, of course.

Both hands were braced on his chest at first, though one soon slid up into his hair, nails scratching delicately at his scalp as she tilted his head back. Her breath feathered across his skin, then her lips.

Kisame kept very, very still. 

A warm, agile, evil little tongue flicked out, and-- was she..? Oh. Oh, god.

A half-stifled groan escaped him as Sakura ever-so-slowly drew her tongue across one set of his clan tattoos before blowing a cool breath over the newly damp skin. He could see her pulse fluttering madly against the thin skin of her neck, and very suddenly had to stop himself from leaning forward to taste, to bite, to _mark_—

But no. She couldn't possibly know what she was doing, what it _meant,_ or she would have kept as far from the distinctive markings as humanly possible. 

So, instead of pulling her onto his lap to accept her blatant claim in front of his comrade, Kisame very carefully grasped Sakura's hips and pushed the kunoichi away. Intent on sending a far too gleeful-looking Deidara a vicious glare, he missed the bright red blush that suffused Sakura's face when she finally noticed just how little his drawstring pants left to the imagination.

Muttering something about needing to finish a scroll, she beat a hasty retreat. 

Kisame promptly thumped his head against the solid tabletop so conveniently placed in front of him. "I," he muttered into the fine grain, "am going to kill you."

"Only if you take care of that first," Deidara cackled, wisely heading for the door. "I don't swing that way, un."

The blond just barely ducked around the corner fast enough to escape the kunai thrown at his head.

OoOoOoOoOoO

It didn't take long for Deidara to catch up to her; Sakura's pace, while brisk at first, had slowed to a normal walk once she thought she'd put enough distance between herself and a certain someone occupying the kitchen.

Sakura tipped her head forward, hair falling to shield her expression. "You shouldn't tease him like that. You're going to get me in trouble one of these days."

Deidara smirked from his place at her side, arms folded negligently behind his head, and said nothing—much to her annoyance.

"I'm not stupid; it's more than a little obvious he wants me, Deidara."

"So why not take him up on it, hmm?"

Sakura shot him a dirty look, crossing her arms under her breasts defensively. "Because _I'm not stupid._ In case you forgot, he _abducted_ me. I'm being held here against my will. You guys are supposed to be my _enemies._ In what dimension does that translate to, 'acceptable lover'?"

"You're over thinking it, un."

"You aren't thinking _enough."_

He scoffed and dropped his arms to gesture back the way they'd come. "He wants you. You want him... All I'm saying is that you might as well sort out that sexual tension before it blows up in your face. You can deal with the aftermath later, un."

"...I don't know what you're talking about."

Deidara snorted. "Even a _genin_ could've seen it. You practically crawled into his lap and licked his tattoos. If that isn't attraction, I don't know what is, un."

"That was—" _your fault,_ she started to say, but cut off abruptly as she turned the corner and almost slammed into someone's chest. She stepped back just in time, however, but the arm she lifted in instinctive defense was caught in the tight, implacable grip of Uchiha Itachi.

She felt Deidara stiffen slightly beside her, but most of her attention was on keeping herself from meeting the Uchiha's ever-dangerous eyes.

"...Good morning," she said cautiously.

Had she not been staring fixedly at his chin, she might have missed the almost imperceptible grimace that tightened his lips into a frown. The hand wrapped around her wrist tightened painfully, then released, dropping back to his side as if it hadn't happened at all.

"Hn."

"Did you," Sakura paused, squinting at him behind pink eyelashes and rocking back a little on her heels. "...sleep well?"

Itachi eyed her expressionlessly as usual, but Sakura detected a slight change in the atmosphere, one that she couldn't analyze. The man was damn near impossible to read, not owing to the fact that he was near emotionless all the time, but that she couldn't stomach the idea of being close to him for any longer than was absolutely necessary for this little 'get to know you' horror fest.

Moving towards her slowly, Itachi walked aside her narrowly on the small path—Sakura could feel Deidara draw in a breath—and as he passed, she could barely detect the small whisper he left her with. 

"It is unwise to mingle here."

Itachi disappeared down the hall in a vaguely kitchen-area direction, leaving Sakura to share a disturbed glance with her blond escort.

"Well," she muttered, "at least _someone_ here has a bit of sense."

OoOoOoOoOoO

A surprisingly short few hours later found a rather vexed Sakura actively hunting down the object of her frustrations in his own territory.

She'd tried to distract herself in the library as long as she could, she really had; the selection wasn't exactly anything to sneeze at, either. Someone had even added some shiny new periodicals when she was occupied elsewhere. 

Eager for something new, Sakura had snatched up the thin bound publications and curled up on the couch in hopes of immersing herself in the wonderful pastime of Denial.

But then, one could only stare at a stack of travel magazines for so long before one cracked under the strain of not having seen daylight in far too long.

Presently, she knocked on the door to Kisame's rooms and slipped inside at his muffled welcome.

"I want to go outside."

His reply wasn't the outright 'no' she had expected. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something only he could hear. Then,

"It's raining."

She rolled her eyes. "A little water isn't going to hurt me."

His lips twitched. A moment later, Sakura found him much closer than he'd been a moment before. Large hands braced on either side of her head against the wall, Kisame observed her with amusement. "_Really_."

Sakura hummed mock-huffily and glanced away, playing along. Distantly, she noted that his rooms weren't nearly as sparse as she had expected. "Really. I don't melt or anything."

When he started to lean closer, she pressed a hand against his stomach and tried not to notice the nicely toned muscles beneath his thin shirt. He paused obligingly, but dipped his head until he could murmur into her ear, "Interesting."

It was suddenly all she could do to suppress a shiver. "Mmm...it would be good for me, actually. It really is unhealthy to be cooped up inside for so long. I'm starting to miss fresh air."

Kisame pulled back to consider her thoughtfully; that was when something caught her eye. Pushing up on her toes, Sakura reached up and cupped the back of his neck with her hand. He blinked, but didn't pull away. "What?"

Her thumb skimmed down his earlobe to the small, dangling pearl earring he wore.

At her raised eyebrow, he stepped away completely and murmured, "Tradition."

"...Ah."

Sakura wrapped her arms around herself, feeling oddly chilled and bereft at his withdrawal. Suddenly unsure, she bit her lip and turned to leave. 

"Sakura."

She paused and glanced over her shoulder.

"You really don't mind it?"

Sakura shook her head, meeting his eyes steadily as the tension level shot up; now was not the time to shy away. "Compared to snow and sun, it's a refreshing change."

He studied her for a moment, then nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you."

With that, she left, waiting for the click of the door closing behind her. 

It never came.


	8. Admission

"What is your opinion of Kisame-san?"

"Oh, not you, too..." Sakura groaned and shot Zetsu an annoyed glare, which was somewhat wasted considering he wasn't even looking at her. "I never really pictured you guys as matchmakers."

_"As well you should not,"_ he said gruffly. A slight pause, and he added in his serene voice, "We are merely curious."

Sighing, Sakura tilted her head back to stare up at the fake sky above them; the genjutsu was perfect, even had all the constellations in place. Thoughtfully, she replied, "I want to have his babies. Twelve of them, with blue skin and pink hair and mismatched eyes."

"About damned time," Zetsu cheered.

And they all lived happily ever after.

The End.

* * *

...

...

...

Happy April Fool's Day!

XD; Sorry, couldn't resist.

Also! This is the perfect time to point you all towards my Deviantart journal where I'm holding a KisaSaku contest!

ivyadrena. deviantart. com/ journal/17422523/ #comments

(Just remove the spaces.)

**Prizes:**  
First Place - 3 Month DA subscription  
Second Place - One color request pic by me  
Third Place - One shaded lineart request pic by me

The Deadline is on April 30th, so there's plenty of time to work on your entry (or entries!).


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